To believe in a new Camelot
by BriefShiningMoment
Summary: Morgana gazed at the staff that created the army of the dead. Soon, Uther's reign would end and she could finally be free. Little did she know of the injured warlock that came to foil her plan. But could he change her mind first? Alt. ending, Oneshot S2E2


Merlin was exhausted. He hadn't recovered from the sting of the Serket and the enchantment he'd used to keep him going was wearing off. The pain in his back had gradually got worse throughout the day, starting with a niggling discomfort but it had now become a searing fire. It had been two days now since Kilgharrah had saved him and Merlin had not been able to rest like he'd promised.

Rest? What was rest when working for and protecting Arthur, prat of Camelot?

He kept running until he reached the darkened vault where he sensed the magic. Merlin stumbled to a halt as Morgana turned to see him. She looked scared. She seemed to have been staring at the staff before he'd arrived. She quickly composed herself.

"You should leave now, while you still can," she threatened.

"Morgana, please I beg you –" The ceiling shook above them, an ever present reminder of all that was at stake. Merlin looked up and staggered. His vision was shimmering, nothing was staying still and moving his head was too disorientating. Morgana followed him with quick eyes as he stumbled to the side. She kept herself between him and the staff, suspicious. Merlin tried again.

"Woman and children are dying. The city will fall!" Uncertainty flickered across her face for an instant before anger took over. Anger was easier.

"Good!"

"No," replied Merlin, shaking his head. He cringed. No, shaking his head was definitely not a good idea. "You don't mean that." Morgana continued to watch him, her face tight with emotion.

"I have magic Merlin," she spat. "Uther hates me and everyone like me, why should I feel any different about him?"

"You of all people could change Uther's mind!" insisted Merlin. Sweat glistened on his brow and his eyes pleaded what his words could not, appealing to the woman he used to know. "Doing this, using magic like this will only harden his heart."

"You don't have magic Merlin" Morgana replied, narrowing her eyes. "How could you hope to understand?"

"I do understand, believe me." Merlin shook himself. If only it wasn't so hot in here so he could think straight. Soon enough he'd blurt out his whole secret. "If I had your gifts I would harness them for good. That's what magic should be for, that's why you were born with these powers," he muttered. He could barely lift his head to meet her eyes now but his words held the same passion as it did when he first realised his destiny.

"You don't know what's it's like to be an outsider. To be ashamed of how you were born. To have to hide who you are!" That's what it came down to. Unless he revealed his magic she was never going to trust him. Yet he still couldn't trust her, especially after all she'd done. That anger in her scared him. The rage. It was anger that had started the Purge in the first place. So Merlin remained silent, cursing what was and mourning what could have been.

"Do you think I deserve to be executed because of who I am?" she asked. What a stupid question.

"No," Merlin replied softly. "It doesn't have to be like this." He looked her in the eyes, his body shaking with the effort. "We can find another way," he promised. Her eyes shone with tears as she shook her head.

"There is no other way." Merlin looked at her, letting her see the defeat in his eyes as he finally realised he'd lost her. He sighed quietly and nodded, turning away. Where she couldn't see, his eyes burned gold, giving him the strength to charge towards the staff. But she wasn't caught unawares. The strength that he'd once admired in her was directed towards him now, a heavy blow to the side. He stumbled back, crying out and dropping his sword. He gasped and blinked his eyes open, trying to focus on his attacker.

"What are you going to do, kill me?" he challenged.

"You don't think I can?" Morgana replied, scathingly. Merlin stopped, unable to force his body to move another step. Hissing in pain, he straightened his back and stood as still as he could manage.

"If you're going to do it, make it quick." Morgana glared at him levelly, not taking his defeat twice. With a cry she drew back her arm and swung it back to cut him down. Instinct had him duck and grab his sword from the ground, bringing it up in time to block another strike. He choked back a scream as her sword crashed into his, sending shockwaves down his back all the way down to his toes. Morgana was relentless. She brought her sword down again and again, each blow reverberating through his shaking arms and searing his back. He knew he was losing and her fury didn't allow her to show mercy.

He could see the glowing light of the staff behind her, although he couldn't see the staff itself. The room was too dark for that. In fact, the entire room seemed to have darkened around the edges. Morgana paused for a moment, finally taking the time to truly look at Merlin. He was sweating, which Morgana could expect, he hadn't had any form of training after all but his exhaustion was another matter. Servants worked. They worked hard. She'd often seen Merlin scurrying around after Arthur to know that the boy had greater stamina then he should. He looked dead on his feet.

Frowning, she shook her head slightly. She couldn't be concerned with the condition of a boy who would poison her. He'd betrayed her, she couldn't forget that. Morgana raised her sword again and brought it down once more. This time he wasn't fast enough. Morgana watched in a detached kind of horror as her blade went through his neckerchief and shirt, feeling the slight resistance as it cut through his skin before she could stop it.

Merlin cried out and bent into his chest in shock. The tip of his sword dragged slightly on the ground but he still tried to bring it up again, looking up at Morgana. She clenched her teeth and brought her sword down again, if only to stop him looking up at her with that pitiful look. His sword crashed to the ground and she managed to stop hers before it hit him.

Morgana watched him as he attempted to struggle up again. His efforts were feeble, his chest barely moving from the floor, still he kept trying. She seized him by his neckerchief and heaved him upright so that he sat up. He resisted, grabbing her hand and glaring at her. She forced him back into the side of a destroyed tomb, unknowingly pressing a jagged piece into his wound. He jerked away with a strangled cry, causing his jacket to shift partly off his back. Morgana's eyes were drawn to the patch of his shirt that seemed to be a darker red. Before she could stop herself she reached towards it and pulled aside the cloth.

"What happened?" she asked, trying and failing to keep any emotion out of her voice.

"You left me in a forest with a nest of Serkets what do you think happened?" retorted Merlin feebly.

He was stung, Morgana realised. Part of his lower back had been torn open, the whole area around it violent shades of purple and yellow. He struggled against her grip on his and she could see the muscles tugging on his wound, undoubtedly making it worse. She wanted to urge him to stop but he was never one to follow orders. Suddenly he slammed his body into her, forcing her away from him. She stumbled back, startled as he tried to make his way over to the staff once more, grabbing his sword as he went.

Before she could begin to follow him, Merlin fell, his body failing him despite his strong will. He slumped to the ground, utterly spent.

"Why are you doing this? You aren't even from Camelot, what does it matter to you if it falls?" she asked, genuinely curious. He tried to get up again, his body barely stirring from his efforts.

"It's my home, I can't just let it fall," he answered, his voice barely above a whisper. "God knows there are times when I hate Uther, hate what he's done and what he stands for. Arthur's different, I've seen it. There's still hope, Morgana and I'm not willing to let it go, not for anything." Merlin reached out to his sword, even as his vision faded. His fingers brushed the hilt, but he could no longer feel it, the darkness claiming him at last.

Morgana stared down at the unconscious servant, wondering just what it was he could see that was more important than his own life. A vision of Arthur swam in front of her eyes, of him helping Mordred, carrying his poisoned manservant in his arms, his curious glances to Gwen and suddenly the vision of him showing clemency to those with magic didn't seem so unbelievable. With confidence, she strode past Merlin to the staff.

"Snaede," she uttered, her eyes glowing gold as she cut through the staff, destroying the enchantment. She might not know much about the future, but she knew Arthur. Who knows, maybe he could succeed where countless sorcerers had failed? She picked up Merlin's unconscious form from the floor and started to haul him to Gaius. He believed in a new Camelot, perhaps she could dream as well.


End file.
